Pope Mandi the Kick Rump returns... spent the weekend in Galena, Illinois, with my honey, Puppetcancer
, and I was with him no more than twenty-four hours ago, and I already miss the snot outta him. It'd be hard enough to miss him as just my boyfriend, but he's also one of my best friends; that makes things doubly difficult. However, I can't complain, since I got a great weekend with him that revived/refreshed me for the times ahead that'll no doubt prove trying from time to time to time. I needed that time with him this past weekend to recharge my proverbial batteries; my beloved JHB, my charging dock.
We did try to go see Black Panther on Saturday, and you can imagine my shock, bordering on dismayed horror, that Mindframe Theater in Dubuque, Iowa, near the J.F. Kennedy Mall, was gutted, ripped up, sign removed and just... gone. Our first movie date happened there! (We saw The Lego Movie there in 2014 on the first of March, if I'm not mistaken. I watched the movie, I think, but was more interested in getting to sit and hold hands in a dark theater with John for about two hours. .... whut?) That was a sad moment to see Mindframe wiped out of existence. I wasn't super emotionally bonded to it, I'd only gone there with JHB twice, once to see The Lego Movie and another to see Deadpool, but... dang, my first movie date with the man I'll one day marry happened at that now departed flick joint. It was arresting more than anything, like a scratching record skip when I saw Mindframe Theater's building, drove up to it to find a parking space, only to find the theater "not there." It wasn't emotionally jarring, but there was a kind of bittersweet, and more bitter than sweet, moment where my brain comprehended the movie theater's very distinct absence. I dunno, empty and vacant buildings depress me; it's like a fashion of death. Maybe an economic death, a very poignant scene that forces me to have to reconcile into my reality that sometimes shuns such depressing facts that the economy isn't doing as hot as I want to pretend it is. I hate seeing small businesses go under, including this little mostly indie film theater that showed movies that didn't otherwise get equal attention. It's a sometimes devastating loss for Team Underdog. Plus, I have memories there, and seeing Mindframe missing is almost akin to forgetting my happy memories there; the location is gone, but the memories do remain, but it feels like... there's less proof of those memories now. The building and business was destroyed, so part of me fears now that because there's no way I can point out a location to my future theoretical children, maybe even my grandchildren, to a location, (one that no longer exists), to say, "this is where Mommy and Daddy/Grandma and Granddad went on their first movie date," my memories are somehow negated. It's a whole bunch of psychological craziness going on, but it is quite sad to see Mindframe Theater fade from reality into mere memory because it wasn't making enough money. Seems like a vulgar reason, even if it is an inconvenient reality of the business world. After all, it's never personal... it's just business.
The highlight of my weekend came when John brought two photo albums to show me of his youth. Let me explain it to you like so; every parent out there believes they have a beautiful baby. Thing is, the Beckwiths really DID! He was such a beautiful baby, an adorable toddler and the cutest little kid you could imagine, I was so overcome by it all that I almost cried. There was something bordering on, if not completely, spiritual in seeing the past in photographs of the man I'm going to one day make my husband. That trip through time to see him literally grow up was just... too special for words --- sacred, even. And then to find yourself sitting next to this child who grew up into the man you love more than anything on Earth is just... it's surreal. Surreal, I said, but not "hard to believe." I guess I always knew, and long before I saw this photographic evidence of my convictions, that John was a beautiful baby. Puppetcancer
, I knew you had to be a beautiful baby, 'cause Baby, look at you NOW.
Seeing photos of my mate as a baby, and having knowledge of what I looked like when I was a wee Mandi Pope, I have to sigh sweetly and imagine, "what would our babies look like?" First off, I guarantee, any baby with my blood in his veins will have red hair. That's the Pope Guarantee; the only way you can be a Pope and not have some variant of red hair is to marry in. Pope Blood comes with a 100% money back guarantee of fiery red tresses of some kind, and my fiery deeper hued auburn hair was no exception to the ironclad rule. So, yes, any babies that came from the union of John Beckwith and Mandi Pope would have the unavoidable red from their Pope mother. Aside from the mandatory auburn locks, I sincerely hope that's the end of the genetic interruption from their mother. If you saw the children's father's baby pictures, you'd swiftly agree with me. I want our kids to look like their father when he was one; I'm not implying that their mother was a hideous baby, but I am stating with conviction bordering on religious that she was not a fraction as adorable as JHB was and is. There's a very romantic thought about a child who is half of you and half of me, who exists as living proof of our love for each other.
Anyhow, I'm in the office and need to get to work here. Hope you all have a day as wonderful and perfect as you are.
God love you like I do,